Contempt
by Childish Sadism
Summary: There was a twitching in his head and it wouldn't stop. There was a twitching in his head and it kept getting worst and worst. The needle in his head had a name, and he hated not seeing his reflection on the mirror.


Let's be honest, this fic is very mild compared to the shit I usually write.

another Ven/Van

No beta so shit english. Sorry.

* * *

Frozen.

How else could he describe how he felt.

Trapped.

There was no where to run, no where to hide.

Pain.

It just wouldn't end.

Make it end.

Make it end.

Finish it.

One strike was okay, two became the norm, the feeling of his blood burning as the sensation spread through his body, that was something he was still not used to and he was probably never going to be able to overcome. It did become predictable though, he knew when it would come, he learned to gritted his teeth and not to flinch. He learned not to close his eyes, after all that was the difference between winning and losing. But the feeling, the sensation, that wasn't going to be gone, that wasn't going to be erased. The way his body twitched, and his muscles would tense, how it slowly spread from one wound to the other, the burning sensation that it slowly consumed the rest of his body. He got hot. It was burning, sweat was clinging to his body and his breathing became erratic.

Panting and choking. Walk it off and stand up. Don't let it show and stand tall, never bend, never quiver, that's what makes you different, that's what makes you superior. He is better than the other one, he will always be. That's what makes him special and that's what he is trying to achieve, to return what was once his, not the others. Whole once more.

The itchiness on his body is getting bad, the craving and the stability of his mind is shaking. He can feel his hands shaking and his body almost falling. Walk it off and stand up. Over and over, he can feel a new twitch of pain spreading through out, but it is something he has to endure, something he must endure in order to reach his goal, in order to crawl through the shadows and reach him. He was finally able to see him, to see...him, no himself. He was finally able to see him again after so many years, after hating him for so long, after the hatred inside of him had almost consumed him. It was excited to be face to face and the grin underneath his mask couldn't be any wider. Once more, he needed to be near him again, it made the itching stop, it put the boiling in his blood at ease and the pain...it didn't hurt as much.

He has been waiting for so long, just for him, just to see him grow to see him become who he is now. He delivered an invitation right to his room, more like he shoved him right into the web of lies they had created. The crawling spider had an easy target and he couldn't help himself but to smile, to watch him struggle and squirm. It was so delightful, to not be the only one hurting, and feeling angst. To see the other finally feeling and going through some of the same he has done.

Because Vanitas had gone through a lot and he could feel exhaustion slowly taking over. The slumber that was waiting for him if he didn't find his home again.

The hatred that had turned into nothing but rage was all that consumed him, and it played music in his ears and twisted the little bit of his heart he had left. The reflection on the mirror smiled at him but it was a stranger. It wasn't who he was, it wasn't who he was meant to be. He was...he was the same as him. The black hair should had been blond, and the yellow eyes should had been blue, and even though this was a face he had grown accustomed to, it wasn't who he was. A face that was round and soft, wide eyes that reflected honey, a small nose and soft lips that were not his. He touched the mirror and he stared, he stared for as long as he could. He didn't look like a monster anymore, but to be greeted by a stranger was just as unsettling. This face didn't belong but the longer he looked at Ventus, it was like his didn't either. Even though he was his and vise versa, the pieces felt like they had been left broken, nothing fit right, and nothing probably would again.

Yet, the craving and the hunger inside of him urged him. It was hard to breathe and it was hard to control himself anymore. He dragged his feet but stood tall, he smirked and laughed but his gut was twisting. One hit was nothing, how about another, and another and another and another. It didn't matter. This wasn't his, this wasn't who he was. Just like a shadow, they could step on him over and over but it didn't matter, he was always going to be there, until the light was strong enough to fully consume him, but that wasn't going to happen, no, he was stronger. He was the one that was going to become one.

One step near him though, it made everything better. Even if he has miles away, just one step towards the right direction, towards the right path and his body could feel better. Maybe looking at the same sun, the same stars would do the same, he wasn't sure. The moon was high in the sky, and the stars, they shone so bright, they were beautiful and he could remember when he could see them with him, when they were one. When they both loved them, when they both admired them. The cold ground underneath him wasn't uncomfortable and as he laid there he could remember.

How it felt to smile.

How it felt to laugh.

How it felt to be upset without hatred.

How it felt to scream without pain.

How it felt to feel no pain at all.

The way it didn't feel like needles were slowly eating him away. The way he was able to think clearly without malice behind it. The way the warm light would take him, the same light that kept him from using darkness, the darkness he now wields and uses. The same darkness that creates the fiends that cause him nothing but pain. He hated Ventus, he hated him for taking all of this away from him, for keeping everything and at the same time taking whatever little he has left.

It wasn't about doing what his master wished. It wasn't about creating whatever he wished. It wasn't any of that, it was the simple fact that he wanted it all to end. All of it. For his bones to stop burning, for his skin to stop itching and for his head to stop hurting. The pounding on his brain was enough to make his vision blurry and the wetness on his face must had been sweat from how hot it was, even if his eyes were just as moist.

If the pain was too much, just moving towards that direction made him feel better. It made him run as fast as he could, traveling from world to world. Searching and crawling until he found him. Until he could see him and he was close enough to feel the warmth that came from him. It was enough like this, just for now, just so the headache would go away and the needles would stop poking at his skin. To be this far was enough, to see him from far was satisfying. This was who he was, right?

The way Ventus smiled. The way he laughed. The way he joked. This was who he was as well, this was him but why couldn't he be himself then. He couldn't smiled for long, it hurt. He couldn't laugh without his lungs burning and joking...it was fun to play tricks on people that was the best joke, specially when he could create anguish on their face. But this wasn't the same as Ventus, even though he was him, he wasn't the same and he knew why but why couldn't he be himself anymore.

He was Ventus but his name was Vanitas. He was Ventus but he looked different. He was Ventus but he didn't act like Ventus. Maybe he wasn't Ventus. Who was he?

Vanitas watched from far. The closer he was the better he felt yet he couldn't be too close. He watched and observed how different they both were. Even if Vanitas could remember being like that once, it wasn't in him to do it anymore. Using the darkness did not corrupted him, he was darkness itself, he was not human, there was no full heart to corrupt but he remembered being very angry, full of so much rage because of how much it hurt just to exist. He remembers that anger becoming fuel to hatred and that hatred made him who he was. He hated Ventus, he was the source of the hatred so if Ventus was to disappeared, if he was to be with him, then his hatred would be gone and then he could be like he was once. Like he wanted to be. He was the better half, he as the one belonged, that's what his master said.

But Ventus didn't bleed like he did. Ventus didn't feel pain like he did. Ventus didn't have hatred in his eyes. The blood in his body was dark and like smoke, it would crawl out from his nose and mouth when he hurt too much or when his master needed a new training exercise. Ventus's blood was red, and it smelled like copper. Vanitas' blood didn't smell like anything.

Ventus was still who he used to be before they became two, yet Vanitas couldn't be that anymore. If he was the strongest if he was superior, if he was who he was meant to be then why did his memories lied to him. Why could Ventus smile like he used to, why, why, why, why.

There was a twitching in his head and it couldn't stop.

There was a twitching in his head and it kept drilling deeper and deeper.

There was a twitching in his head and it was you.

It was Ventus. He needed to be closer, closer and closer. He needed to reach out for him, to hold onto his neck, to scream at him, to tear him apart, to consume him and to destroy him. Yet he also wanted him to smile like they used to, he wanted him to laugh and he wanted him to cry. He wanted him to cry because Vanitas couldn't do it anymore, the pain in his throat was too much and the way it would slowly spread through his body was too much. It was unbearable, how his throat would close in, his lungs would burn and his body would start shaking. The way his eyes would sting and how his whole body felt so weak after. It truly hurt more than anything and his master would make him stop, because he needed to stop doing that. He didn't need to cry there was no reason for it, if he was in pain then he needed to channel that pain into the darkness inside of him, to become stronger, to become something greater.

He wanted to open his eyes and feel no pain. He wanted to open his eyes and see Ventus. He wanted to be the one to choke the life out of him as he struggled underneath him. As they became one for the pain to end. He hated him, he hated him so much for having it so easy, for being just who they both used to be. Why was Vanitas the different one, why was he the one that couldn't laugh anymore, why was he the one that felt pain, why was he the one that felt hatred, why, why, why, why!

He hated it, he hated him, he hated everything, he...he hated himself.

He hated who he was. The reflection on the mirror was not that of Ventus, the reflection on the black mirror was who he had hated this whole time. To see his hatred in front of him, to see it take shape in who he was. Hate, he was hate. The hand reaching for the mirror was shaking and his vision was blurry but he couldn't cry, his lungs felt like they were going to collapse but he kept breathing. The dirt and putrid hatred on the mirror was being directed to the real one, the real cause, the truth.

He could laugh about this and so he did. He laughed until his throat was bleeding and his mouth was coughing up that black blood he hated. The twitching in his head was so far gone he couldn't stop it. He felt his hands crushing the mirror, he felt his fingers clawing and digging against the glass. He screamed and cried, it wasn't fair. It was never fair. Darkness had no room, darkness was not needed.

He was not needed.

Maybe this was why he failed.

It was probably the reason why he lost.

The way his feet dragged him was subconscious. He shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be anywhere near here. But Ventus was here. He could see him and he could see the glare he was giving him, cute. But being near him was enough, even in this never ending slumber where the darkness and light were so clearly defined, he couldn't stay away. The keyblade in his hand was heavy, he was dragging it and the metal was making a heavy noise on the ground.

He wasn't here to fight but he did, but he was slow and his keyblade hardly held any strength behind it. One swing, two swings and then his keyblade was knocked out of his hand.

"Giving up yet?"

The voice that was so familiar spoke, yet it felt so different from how it once was, probably because Ventus had grown or maybe because his voice was not the same anymore.

"I'm just getting started."

It was a lie and the lie was like pure glass, fragile. The mask was gone for his face, the sweat from pain was visible on his temple, and the way his eyes were hardly able to stay open. He was panting after just moving a couple of times and his body was sluggish.

Ventus was frowning, concern hidden in his eyes, something Vanitas truly hated. Why was he worried, he wanted him to finish it, to end it.

"I'm done." Ventus dismissed him with a shake of his head. He was being ignored, unacknowledged. Was he not even worth his time now?

Vanitas growled low in his throat, his lip twitching upwards in a snare as he rushed to the other, his keyblade in hand again. He teleport but wasn't as fast as he remember himself being, his speed after all was everything, yet it felt like his legs were heavy bricks that couldn't be moved with ease. Ventus dodged with little effort, his keyblade in hand again. He fought him without struggling, and Vanitas was driven by instinct, by the hatred the felt inside of him as he kept fighting and clawing at the darkness inside of him. He screamed and when he lost his keyblade again he used magic, crippling the other as he lost his keyblade as well.

Destroy him.

Consume him.

Take him.

It would make everything better even in this slumber.

Yet, his back hit the cold floor, the white tiles were so bright and Ventus was looking straight at him. Both of his arms were pinned next to his head, keeping him from moving and even if he wanted too, he just couldn't. He couldn't do it because he was alright. He was panting and breathing heavy, and he could see that the blonde was doing the same. Ventus was looking down at him just like he was looking up at him. The two of them were breathing in sync, twitching and sweating all the same.

"We look the same." Vanitas heard his voice, it was sore and quiet. He didn't remember it being this weak.

Ventus stared at him for a long time, none of them moving. He kept him in place, keeping him from moving, not saying a word until Vanitas's vision became blurry.

"Why are you crying?" Ventus voice was as quiet.

"Because...we look the same..." The tears rolled down and for once it didn't hurt to cry, the needles on his skin were gone and the twitching in his head stopped. "We are the same." The voice was barely a whisper, and the shaking on his lips made it hard to hear. He screamed and it felt like everything was pouring out. The darkness was around them but the light was to bright for it to take over. For once, after so many years...he felt like himself.

Ventus didn't move. There was nowhere else to go after all.

It was odd to Ventus, how you can sometimes wake up in a completely unknown place. It had been the second time for him but even then he was still not used to it. Specially when there was someone else that was constantly creeping up behind him. One moment he was by himself, not doing anything and then the next he could see the darkness from the corner of his eyes. It was Vanitas, who else could it be? It had become a norm and quite frankly Ventus was pretty used to it by now, maybe this was a way for him not to go insane. If he was all by himself he wasn't sure what he would do. He was alive but not awake, he could feel his heart but it was sleeping, yet his consciousness kept going.

People say you are better off alone than with bad company, and at some point it was true but when you didn't have a choice, beggars can't be pickers either. Plus Vanitas wasn't who he used to be, well he was, but somewhat he didn't feel or was as dangerous. He was like a wounded cat at this point, fighting him was still annoying but more than anything Ventus found himself beating him over and over, even if Vanitas fought with viciousness, he looked crippled. It was odd to Ventus because he felt the same, but maybe it was the light in this place, it was so strong it was probably affecting the other. Odd but for sure a huge advantage for Ventus.

Vanitas would always return anyways. He always looked tired but he tried to hide it, and now he hardly seek a fight. More than anything he just seem to be trying to pass the time like Ventus, although he for sure looked like he was struggling. But if he wasn't fighting Ventus he was simply getting near him, not enough for Ventus to keep his guard though. Yet, there were times when Ventus would wake up and Vanitas would be near him, sleeping as well, only a couple of feet away and with his hand outstretched towards him.

Ventus did asked about this and the reply he got was as confusing as Vanitas's actions

"Its comfortable."

An odd answer from such an odd boy, but Ventus shrugged it off. He shrugged off all of Vanitas's actions because what was the point. Even when they fought their wounds seem to heal right away, in this never ending emptiness it was as if time stood still but the two kept going. So he let Vanitas be, he let him come back and he fought him when the other needed a reminder of who was the strong one now. The fighting somewhat ended soon enough, after going for so long it finally stopped. More often than not Ventus just found Vanitas sitting near him, trying to take as little room as possible as if he was going to be shoved away. Soon enough whenever he woke up Vanitas's back was pressing against his, and the warmth from the other felt nice.

He should hate Vanitas for what he caused, for all the pain he brought to his friends and himself. He should fight him until he was no more, but then...then he would be all alone. He wanted to use that excuse and that excuse alone, but it would be a lie. He couldn't get rid of Vanitas because he honestly couldn't. It wasn't in him to kill the other, it wasn't in him to harm people out of hatred. It wasn't who he was. If Vanitas was harming, hurting, and doing the same as he once did, then he would have a reason but in here, he wasn't a tread at all. The only one in danger was Ventus and he could handle it. He could handle whatever the other would throw at him.

Eternal light was boring. It felt warm, comfortable, and peaceful but it was so extremely boring. The sky above him was bright and even during night the stars and the moon were shinning with such clarity it felt like darkness wasn't possible. Ventus felt right being here. It was comfortable even if nothing ever happened, but Vanitas...he was obviously not used to this, maybe that's why he was weaker, and maybe this was why he wasn't as violent as he once was.

Vanitas wouldn't speak unless it was necessary, and Ventus wasn't sure what to talk about anyways. It was easy to make conversation with other people but with Vanitas, it was challenging, specially when the other looked so on guard and like a cat that was ready to jump far away if you got close. It was only at night when he would come closer and sleep next to Ventus, it was the only time his guard was down and this night wasn't any different. Ventus woke up to the familiar warm feeling on his back, except this time he turned to face the other.

"Vanitas, are you awake?" There was no reply.

"We are stuck here for good aren't we? I'm not sure what else to do anymore. I'm so bored and it feels like I'm never going to wake up. It feels good. I feel like I'm home, but it isn't the same." Ventus sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned his forehead on the others back. He felt familiar, but yet so different from him.

"I'm okay with being here..." Vanitas's reply was quiet, only for Ventus to hear.

"Why is that?" The blonde peeked up this time, sitting down to look down at the other. The raven's eyes were still closed, looking like he was still sleeping.

"It doesn't hurt to be here."

Ventus was confused by the answer. He couldn't remember ever hurting from being anywhere, but he could remember hurting from trying to remember his once lost memories. It had been painful trying to remember because all he felt was pain, pain and suffering.

"Were you...are you always hurting?" The question was asked with such innocence Vanitas almost hated it but he was tired and drained.

"Not here, I feel numb, better than how I felt before though. It feels better when I'm near you."

So that was the reason why Vanitas was always so close to him, it made sense now. Ventus hummed quietly and laid back down on his back, except this time he rolled over and got on top of the other with his back facing Vanitas. The other quickly squirmed until he was on his back as well, looking at Ventus with a glare.

"What are you doing!?" The raven hissed, his eyes narrowing.

"Well, I'm getting closer right? Shouldn't that make you not wanna complain." But Ventus was honestly doing it because he was bored, and getting a reaction out of the other was fun, even if Vanitas looked livid. Still, his logic was not wrong and Vanitas seem to agree because he laid back down on the ground, the two of them staring at the night sky. Ventus was draped across the other, his arms stretching out along with his legs, he was so close to the other but he could hardly feel his breathing or his heart beat at all.

"Your heart is quiet." Ventus mused, not looking at the other.

"Because its small..." Vanitas mumble in return and Ventus could have sworn he heard sulking in his voice.

"I like it..." The smile on the blond's lips couldn't be stopped. He giggled quietly to himself and looked at the other.

Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. As long as he wasn't alone.

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what an awkward ending...So just imagine Ventus eventually tapped that darkness, multiple times.


End file.
